escort diary® of Emi Laurentis: Everyone’s fantasy, nobody’s girlfriend
I’ve been thinking lately that I might be quite good at being someone’s fantasy but I’m not entirely convinced I’d make an easy girlfriend.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m affectionate, attentive, I love good conversation, and I can be terribly romantic.
But I also love my independence, make spontaneous plans, have approximately 47 things happening in my life at once.
I suppose that’s the funny thing about being someone’s fantasy. They get the lovely dress, the perfume, the charming conversation and my undivided attention.
They don’t get me running late because I couldn’t decide what to wear, complaining about something completely insignificant, or announcing at midnight that I’ve suddenly decided to reorganise my entire life.
Very glamorous. Very mysterious.
And I wonder sometimes, do we actually fall for people, or for the version of them we create in our heads?
Because I’ve certainly been guilty of it myself.
Give me a charming man, a good sense of humour and a little intelligence, and suddenly I remember that attraction has absolutely nothing to do with common sense.
I’m European. We’re supposed to be romantic, not necessarily reasonable.
But here’s what I find interesting.
I think there’s a difference between wanting someone and wanting to share an actual life with them.
It’s easy to enjoy the exciting parts of a person. The difficult part is appreciating everything that comes afterwards. Their habits, contradictions, bad moods and slightly irrational opinions.
Personally, I think the right person should find your little imperfections amusing rather than exhausting. Obviously, I expect a certain level of patience. Preferably unlimited.
Which is fortunate, because I have quite a few.
For now, I rather enjoy my freedom, my unpredictable life and the interesting people who occasionally become part of it.
And if one day someone wants to be my boyfriend, I have only one piece of advice.
Make sure you fall in love with the woman, not the fantasy.
The fantasy wears beautiful lingerie.
The woman sometimes eats dinner standing in front of the fridge, wearing an oversized T-shirt, her hair in a messy bun, wondering whether cheese counts as a proper meal.
